


we fall in love till it hurts or fades or bleeds in time

by lavenderandthyme



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Mutual Pining, OT3, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-OT3, Romantic Friendship, this was meant to be domestic fluff but spiraled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderandthyme/pseuds/lavenderandthyme
Summary: So it had taken them 60 years longer than it should've done to all reach the same page - it wasn't like they were short on time.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	we fall in love till it hurts or fades or bleeds in time

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was initially meant to be domestic fluff but just turned into another rewrite of the same old stuff I always end up writing - I mean, I really did try.
> 
> Title comes from State of Grace by Taylor Swift
> 
> -sorry again for forcing the same mediocre written spiel on you for the thousandth time, maybe next week new inspiration will hit, here's to hoping!
> 
> enjoy!

In the clarity of hindsight, Natasha recognised that she really should know better than turn up uninvited on a Friday night - in fact, she certainly did know better thinking about it, which made all of this all the more irritating. Who was she to get this comfortable? But that was an entirely different concern in itself though, and quite beside the point -

-the point being that she could count the number of times she recalled being startled, properly rendered speechless - jaw dropped and bones locked, on the fingers on one hand. It wasn’t something that happened often, her being caught off guard, yet here she was, properly startled, fish mouth and all, knees locked in Steve’s doorway.

She decided after her brain had caught up with itself and stopped freaking out - mostly - that she would grant herself the benefit of the doubt; catching 40s icon Captain America sucking the face-off of his dead-best-friend-turned-assassin-turned-not-actually-dead-best-friend (turned boyfriend?) was enough to shock the words straight out of Tony Stark’s mouth. 

Speaking of the face sucking, they were in the kitchen, which brought all sorts of cleanliness concerns to the forefront of Natasha’s mind, but she pushed them aside for the time being to just gawk at the scene in front of her. The scene was thus: James sitting on the counter with Steve standing between his legs, the silver of James’ left hand catching the sunlight as it clutched onto the front of Steve’s t-shirt, his other hand tangled in the gold of his hair. Steve had his hands bracketing James’ hips, gripping onto the counter with such force the wood was sure to splinter any moment.

So scene: set - Natasha was still stood gormless in the doorway, the spare key - that she really, absolutely shouldn’t have accepted for this exact reason - hanging off of her fingers, threatening to drop at any moment. She gaped at them for a few moments longer, before she realised it really should be more awkward than it was to walk in on them like this - because James was probably the only man who knew her body more than she did, and Steve was, well Steve was Steve. 

She snapped her mouth shut and reviewed her choices on how the hell she was meant to handle whatever this was.

The way she saw it currently, was that she had two alternative options to deal with this:

Option one: She could run away and pretend as if she never saw a thing. This was by far the most appealing option, but she’d already endured one journey on the August subway, an experience which she wasn’t looking to repeat for at least several hours, preferably not until the sun had gone down and the sticky tourists had retreated to whichever sticky hole they had appeared from. She supposed she could always go find a park to sit in, there was a nice one around the corner, quiet, and she had her book - or:

Or option two: She could stay. Pros of this option were - air conditioning, the little glass bottles of raspberry lemonade that she liked and they always seemed to be fully stocked up of, and a golden opportunity to tease  _ both _ of them, something which she didn’t give up on easily these days if she could help it.

She contemplated her decision for a moment, doing her best to remain completely silent - not that they were in any danger of getting distracted by the looks of things. In the end, as usual, it was the niggling voice in the back of her head- that, for unrelated reasons, had the habit of sounding like Steve’s ‘Captain-America-is-disappointed-in-you’ voice - that reminded her that one of her resolutions this year was to stop running away from things because they were a little scary. 

She cursed herself and made her way noiselessly over to the couch, silently hoping the teasing would be worth the slightly creepy undertones of what she was doing. She picked up the newspaper on the coffee table and decided if things got a little too - intense - she could always sneak out to the park and come back in an hour, or two.

In the end, it was only a few minutes of very enthusiastic making out until she heard James curse to her left.

“Jesus Christ,”

He groaned, dropping his head into Steve’s chest, who himself seemed to be impersonating her earlier expression, looking at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“Done so soon?” she said, licking the tip of her fingertip as she flicked the page - the teasing was  _ absolutely _ going to be worth it, “Pity, I think the neighbours were enjoying the show,”

James groaned again, muffled by the material of Steve’s shirt.

“Hell Nat, you should’ve said something,” Steve said, his mouth bruised red and his hair tousled, pupils still blown wide. Natasha swallowed.

“What if I wanted to read,” she dropped her gaze down to the open page in front of her, “-the stock reports.” she grimaced, shutting the paper and dropping it back onto the table.

James muttered “Psychopath” under his breath while Steve shrugged, untangling himself gently as he made his way out of the kitchen.

“Weather’s nice - did you come here on the subway, Nat?” He had a sour expression on his face which deepened when she nodded, “He’s right, you are a psychopath,” 

He trotted into the bathroom with a smile, looking perfectly smug and not embarrassed at all, the bastard. 

James, on the other hand, was looking decidedly more sheepish. His cheeks were blushed suitably rosy as he made his way over, but then again that could’ve been from the kissing -

“You’re not upset?” he said, watching her warily from the doorway. She curled her legs under herself with a smile, that was what all this sheepishness was about, then. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“It’s not like you’ve jilted me at the alter,” she said. He huffed, walking forwards until he was leaning on the back of the sofa.

“I just,” he sighed, “I know things are, complicated when it comes to us and-”

The look on his face is so dear she can’t help but to cut him off with a laugh.

“Stop panicking Sargeant,” she said fondly, feeling brave enough to reach out and squeeze his hand, not missing the way he tenses at the contact. She drops her hand back down to her side and he follows it with his gaze, she would call it longing, but she isn’t stupid enough to believe it would be. 

“I’m happy for you, both of you,” she says, sincerely as she can manage and tries to ignore the small part of her that does, in fact, feel a little jilted. Well, not jilted, but perhaps a little cautious at where this leaves her in their dynamic, but then again it was Steve and it was James, solid as rocks. Chances were nothing would particularly change apart from a bit more PDA, but then they were never really lacking it in the first place.

“Was about time if you ask me,” she bit her lip, “I had my bets on October, but Sam was pretty close,”

James paled, she had to swallow down her laugh.

She was certain Sam had no clue whatsoever about this, but the way the grin stretched across his face when he realised she was joking made it worth the lie. He reached down and pinched that ticklish spot under her armpit, and she let out one of those god-awful high-pitched squeals that little children made when they got too excited. She despised it, but it made his grin wider, so she decided to let it slide just this once.

“Shall we go to the park?” Steve said, poking his head around the doorway to smile at them both, the sun catching off the back of his hair like a halo.

Natasha swallowed again, pushing James hand away, and smiled back at Steve. 

“Yes, I think we shall,”

*

“Tasha,” it was the nickname that caught her attention mostly. She looked down to where Steve was laying at her side, propped up on one elbow to peer up at her. A glance behind him told her James was asleep on the grass, or just polite enough to give them the courtesy of privacy. “Ask you something?”

She smiled, marking the page of her book with her finger, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Depends,” she said softly, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head on them. The breeze whipped through her skirts and caught in his hair and the tree above them.

“You knew him, before SHIELD, didn’t you?”

She sighs, letting the wind carry it across the grass. Realistically she’d known it was only a matter of time before this came up, but still, she’d hoped she’d have more time in their sweet bubble of denial.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she glances over Steve’s shoulder again, James hadn’t moved, looked remarkably peaceful, actually.

“From what I remember - which is a hell of a lot less than I should- we knew each other, yes,” She looks back to Steve, who was watching her steadily through light blue eyes, “First when I was fourteen, and again, again when I was older - look Steve there’s something you should know,”

But then there’s a stray frisbee and all tail ends of her confession get wrapped up in Steve’s distraction. Puppy-like, he never could say no to frisbee though, so she forgives him in favour of watching the way the sunshine catches off his smile.

James had woken up during the chaos and was watching her curiously.

“He doesn’t know,” 

“To be fair to him,” Natasha said, not turning to look at him but keeping her gaze on Steve across the park, “Not many do, strictly classified information,” 

She feels his eyes watching her for a few more minutes before he lies back with a snigger, shutting his eyes again.

“You should tell him, Natalya,” he said, Natasha clutched at her book tighter, “He would tell you if it were the other way around,” 

She hummed in agreement. The most annoying thing was, she knew he was absolutely right on both counts.

-

She’d meant to tell Steve immediately after that, really she did, but as most things went, she wasn’t granted with the appropriate opportunity until it was too late, much too late.

“1927!” Steve said incredulously, grabbing her at the last minute to pull her behind the shield and out of the sniper’s line of fire, she ducked under his arm to shoot at the guy running at them with a knife.

“In my defence-” she ran around the corner and took out the two guards standing at the end of the corridor with as many shots, turning back to catch the sniper from the new angle, “- I really was going to tell you,”

“When, Natasha,” he said sharply, throwing his shield down a side hall to cut off the 3 Hydra agents that were running towards them, surely that had to be it now. They turned the corner into a room with 5 or so more, obviously not, then. “-the same time you were going to tell me that Red Room was Hydra run?”

“Look, Steve,” she said, reloading her gun as they made their way through them, “If I’m being frank-”

“That would make a change” he sniffed, his shield deflecting a few stray bullets, she shot him a glare. 

“-It was initially a matter of clearance - and your lack thereof,” 

He flinched a little, and she had to remind herself that he wasn’t Russian, that her frankness wasn’t always helpful.

“I trust you, Steve,” she said sincerely, they turned another corner to find the corridor empty, the next two as well, she lowered her gun a little, but kept her senses alert for any stragglers. “-but this could be catastrophic if given to the wrong people - if I had my way no one would know, not even myself”

“So you’d prefer to live in ignorance?”

“If it had the potential to stop the world falling apart at the seams, yes I think so,”

He seemed aptly mollified with that for now, but she could tell there was a fight brewing. That was always the way they dealt with things though, viciously, and then they moved on. 

“Well, I won’t pretend I understand you, Nat,” 

“Not all things to all people, remember?” She meant it seriously, but he shook his head at her with a snort.

“Christ,” he said, grinning boyishly as they made their way out of the base finally, they were relatively unscathed, apart from a nasty cut running up Natasha’s arm, but it wouldn’t need stitches and would be healed by nightfall, he let out a low whistle. “1927, so you must be what,-”

“It’s rude to ask a lady’s age, Steven Grant,” she bristled. He shook his head at her with a laugh, turning round to give James a thumbs up from where he was stationed from the roof. He jumped down promptly and met them at a gentle jog.

“So-?” he said, grabbing Natasha’s injured arm the check how deep the cut was, meeting her eyes with a concerned look. She pulled away gently.

“Lukin,” she said, holding his gaze, his eyebrows furrowed.

“But we killed Lukin - Belarus, ‘96.”

“So we thought,” she shook her head, “Apparently Hydra is a bigger fan of this whole consciousness on a hard drive fanfare than we first anticipated, we just disposed of Lukin’s body for them in Belarus,”

He raised his eyebrows, cursing gently under his breath, they were almost at the car now.

“Anything good?”

Natasha said “No,” primly just as Steve said “1927!” with a delightedly smug expression. James looked between them both before letting out a laugh, shaking his head in Natasha’s direction.

“Permission for an ‘I told you so’” He said, swallowing down more laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, narrowing her eyes, Steve laughed again and tugged on her hair.

-

The fight, when it finally happened, was vicious beyond all comparison. 

Where she and James fought in quiet, scathing remarks, and James and Steve fought in the physical sense of the word, usually a thrown plate added into the mix, Steve and Natasha had a way of aiming for each other’s throats with bared teeth, aiming for no survivors. 

They’d been building up to it for weeks, the temporary mollification of her reminded trust wearing off as soon as more and more connections to Titovich kept cropping up.

The worst, and most recent, of which was a real-life solid photograph of Titovich, skin pale and eyes dark, and worse still, next to her was a young Natasha, in the flesh. She must’ve been sixteen or so, she couldn’t remember, wasn’t even convinced it was her. The girl’s hair was pulled back into a bun adorned with pearl clips and she was wearing a pale pink dress, sleeveless, It couldn’t be anyone else but Natasha realistically, but there was still an obvious block on her mind. The date was 1943, and it was labelled ‘Pentagon Opening Ceremony’.

Steve stared at the image and the inscription for several minutes, one look at James confirmed to Natasha not only that he knew about the photograph, despite it being technically before his time at Hydra, but also that they were walking through a minefield here, and it wasn’t looking hopeful for a safe exit.

“You’re not telling me that FDR?” Steve said finally, staring at the young girl in the image for a few moments longer before turning to the woman she’d apparently become. Natasha shook her head tightly.

“Not Roosevelt, no, - his cabinet though,” 

Steve looked at Bucky for confirmation, and at his nod, he cursed under his breath, properly cursed, multiple times- very creative combination she might add, she wasn’t sure he’d had it in him if she was being honest - and Natasha realised she was really in trouble. He only cursed when he was utterly furious, James swallowed down a grimace.

“Yet another thing your clearance restricted you telling me I presume, Agent Romanov,” his tone cut through her harshly, and she felt the anger bubble up in her chest, her blood pounded.

“Steve-” James started but Steve cut him off sharply.

“No Bucky, she doesn’t need your protection this time, she needs to finally start telling the truth,” he turned to face her with an icy glare, she narrowed her eyes. “Well, was it?”

“Matter of fact it was, Captain Rogers,” she hissed “-and you wonder why that was, you’re too volatile,”

“I’m too volatile?” he said, laughing sardonically, James cursed and left the room. “Says the woman who ups and leaves without a word whenever she feels like it, that’s volatile, Natasha,”

“Would you have preferred if I bought the numerous angry Russian operatives to you, then Steve?” her nails were digging into her hand, “I do apologise for not inviting you on my holiday,”

“Well maybe you should’ve done,” he was properly yelling now, Christ he was pretty when he was angry, “‘Might’ve given me the slightest clue of who the hell you are, which by the way, I don’t have the faintest idea,”

That was a dirty, filthy lie. He knew her just as well as James did probably, and he knew that the asshole.

“This information is not a joke, Steve,” she said, voice rasing to match his, it was rare she was ever this loud, but he seemed to draw it out of her in no time, “It’s not some fond frolic down memory lane, this will get us all killed if we’re not careful here, it’s strictly need-to-know,” 

“Don’t you think, that it’s need-to-know for me if I’m going to be doing all this dirty work for you,” he said, slamming down the photograph on the table in front of her, her younger self stared up at her with a blank look, “Because that’s all this is, isn’t it, just another way of using us to clean up your messes”

“Do you think I want to be doing this any more than you do? Don’t be naive, Steve,” she snapped, pushing the photograph away from her view, it fell to the ground, “All of this would do very good and well to remain buried, there is no ending of this that works in our favour,”

“There it is - you just hate for me to have any truth to hold over you, don’t you Natasha?” 

“This isn’t about you,” she hissed, “it’s not even about me, or James. This is a whole lot bigger than us, and it’s about damn time you realised that,”

His jaw clenched.

“Why are you still here then?” he said, quieter - still as scathing, “There obviously nowhere else you wouldn’t rather be, so what are you still doing standing there?”

She realised as she was watching him, chest heaving and anger dissipating fairly rapidly, that she had two options here:

Option 1: She could do what was expected of her and run,

Or

Option 2: She could tell the truth.

She sighed, eyes shut.

“Because,” her voice was shaky, she clenched her fists. “You and James are all I have,” she swallowed, not entirely true - she had Clint, but Clint had Laura and the kids, and here and now, at this moment, it was true enough. She opened her eyes and met his gaze again with what she hoped was utmost sincerity, “You’re all that matters right now,”

He watched her for a moment, suspicious, then nodded. Just like that. Expression soft, he crossed the room to pull her into his shirt, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist. She hears the kettle pop in the other room and wonders when they became so predictable.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly into the material of his shirt, “It’s not that I don’t trust you with my past, I just” she takes a breath, trying to find the words, “it’s just - with you especially, I’d hate for you to resent me, I couldn’t physically handle it - and a lot of this stuff would do just that,”

He huffed out a laugh into the top of her head, squeezing her tighter,

“Well, no one here is a saint, Tasha,” he dropped a kiss to her forehead, “I know you’re trying, I just get frustrated when there’s not a clear fix,”

“Well,” she said, pulling away to look up at him with a small smile, “Good luck with that, Captain,”

He let her go, reaching down to pick up to photograph where it had fallen to the floor,

“We really need to stop doing this,” he shook his head, “One of these, days we’ll end up killing each other,”

She snorted, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. If she was certain about one thing, it was that they would always be like this, and it worked, they needed it. He was looking at the image with a smile, letting his finger trace the line her hair, “Would you mind if I drew you from this?”

She looked at him startled for a moment,

“I suppose so - if you’d like to,” 

He nodded, dropping another kiss to the top of her head as he passed.

Now it was important to Natasha to note that she hadn’t intended to expose herself like that, but heated arguments usually did that to you - anyway, not the intention - but here she was, six-foot deep in a hole she had no idea to get out of, nevermind if she even wanted to, which in itself was concerning.

“Natalya, did you want tea love?” 

James voice filtered in from the kitchen, and she could smell the floral notes of her favourite tea floating through the door.

Christ, she really was in deep.

-

“Right -” Steve said slowly, his eyebrows knitted together, “-and why do you want to go to Russia?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Not Russia love, Ukraine,” 

“My mistake, but still the question remains - why?”

She looked at James for a moment, lounging in the chair to her right, but he had the same look of mild confusion on his face.

“Not a clue.” he shook his head. “What the hell is in Kyiv?”

“Do either of you listen to a word I say when I talk to you?”

James grinned,

“When you look like that, darlin’? Impossible to listen,” 

If she rolled her eyes any more she’d get a headache, she turned back to Steve.

“You know the file I got you when a certain someone was playing hide-and-go-seek across America?” 

James called out in protest.

“Hold on just a second, I was not playing hide-and-go-seek,”

They both fired him a glare and his hands shot up in mock surrender as he leant back.

“My apologies, the floor is all yours,” 

“As I was saying,” she continued, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows, “the file,”

“Came from your informant in Kyiv, but what has that got to do with Titovich?” Steve followed, James sat up sharply.

“Don’t tell me your little pen-pal is Markova,” his furrow deepened, “I thought she was dead?”

Natasha sighed in relief, she knew he’d catch up eventually. 

“She faked it to get out of the KGB, Titovich assisted and I kept the secret - hence why I get to call in the odd favour,”

He let out a low whistle, Steve looked between them both and made a confused noise, Natasha smiled.

“Karina Markova, she was KGB operative before the Widow programme, always thought she was a bit meek for reconnaissance myself,”

James snorted. 

“Before the Widow programme?” Steve asked surprised, Natasha shrugged.

“Erksine was the most successful, but not the first,” 

“And you?”

She smiled.

“1927, Steve,”

He huffed.

“And here I was thinking you were just really good at your job,”

“Hey!” she said, letting her face fall into a pout, kicking his shin lightly, he grabbed her ankle and tugged at it.

“If you’re quite finished,” James drawled from the chair. They both turned to look at him, he was grinning at them fondly, “You’ve yet to explain how this all concerns us, Natalya,”

“Well, _James._ ” Steve grimaced at the name, couldn’t think of him as anyone other than Bucky still, old habits and all that, “As a nice little side order for her - assistance - Titovich keeps up with Markova, makes sure she’d not making too much noise, as it were,”

“And you think you can convince Karina to give you any information on Titovich?” James said, eyebrows raised. “She was always more of a sheep than a wolf,”

Natasha hummed.

“True, but she’s also smart - she wants Titovich out of the picture just as much as we do- ” she tapped her fingers on the back of her hand and shrugged again, “-she’d be stupid to ignore the tactical benefit of helping us,”

“And if she is?” 

“That’s why I’ll have you two,” she smiled, “call it persuasive negotiation,”

James chuckled but nodded at her after a second.

“Worth a shot.”

She turned to Steve, who was still watching them with a perplexed expression. 

“That was borderline telepathic,”

“Now you know how I feel with you two all the time, you communicate purely through the most minuscule of facial expressions,” 

His face scrunched up.

“No, we don’t.” A beat. “Do we?”

James laughed. 

“Apparently so, punk”

“Christ, sorry Tasha,”

She huffed, she wasn’t here for apologies.

“Well?” 

Natasha watched Steve expectantly, she suspected that he realised she would only do it if he agreed, not like with James who would follow her off of a cliff if she asked nicely enough.

“You’re the boss,” he said with a shrug. 

If her smile was smug, neither of them berated her for it. 

-

Karina Markova was 104 - give or take a few years - and if there was one thing she’d learnt from those 104 years, was that life would never fail to offer up surprises every once in a while. 

For example, it offered her one such surprise on a Tuesday morning mid-October. Now the fact it was a Tuesday was nondescript and wholly irrelevant in itself, apart from perhaps the fact that it was nondescript and wholly irrelevant, making the surprise tenfold more shocking. 

The surprise itself took the form of who turned up on her doorstep on such a morning. That who being Natalya Romanovna flanked by not only by The Winter Soldier, but also Captain America. Now, Karina wasn’t stupid in the slightest, they were here to intimidate her, and she had to admit it had the possibility of working. 

She knew Natalya had been the Captain’s faithful lapdog for a good few years now, just as the Soldier had been hers and - well she supposed it went all ways, really. 

Still, Natalya turning up out of the blue was hardly shocking once she thought about it, but her blood was still rippling with a presumption - this was going to be good. 

She leant against the doorframe, restricting their access for a moment as she put on a breezy smile.

“ _ Two  _ National Icons? Why Natalya, you’ve outdone yourself,”

*

Natasha pursed her lips and mirrored Karina’s casual smile.

“Yes, it would appear I have,” she dropped her shoulders a little “Karina, you remember James, I’m sure,”

The woman narrowed her eyes.

“Well I’m certain I’ve never met  _ James _ before now, but it is nice to know there is a person behind your gun, Soldat,”

“Markova,” James nodded stoically, “Pleasure as always,”

The woman watched them cautiously for a few more moments before turning to grant them entrance into her apartment.

“Let’s get this over with then, Natalya tell your amerikanskiy that his shield is not welcome here,”

She looked surprised when Steve moved to put the shield down without translation - good, Natasha thought, it was smart to keep her on her toes. 

The sat down on opposite sides of the table, declining her offer of water. Karina lit a cigarette, with the red of her lipstick she looked just the picture of a wartime film star.

“I assume,” Markova said in lightly accented English, her tone placing somewhere in that transatlantic zone they loved in the 40s, Natasha was trained to speak in the same dialect. “That you are here about Vasilisa, yes?”

Natasha nodded.

“I’m sure it won’t shock you to know that she suspected you would come to me first, and thus I know nothing, haven’t heard from her in months,”

“Don’t be coy, Karina, surely you must know what she’s up to,”

Markova hummed, tilting her head to look a Natasha, waiting a moment before deciding to speak.

“Last I heard she was looking for any remaining widows,” she sits up, “there were rumours of blood transfusion being used successfully in lieu of the serum, I don’t know if there was any truth in it, but the last we spoke she was looking Yelena,” 

Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

“Yelena is dead,” she swallowed, “They’re all dead,” 

She shot James a glance for confirmation, he nodded, Natasha cleared her throat.

“Vasilisa had them all killed, that I’m sure of,”

Confusion flashed behind Markova’s eyes for a second, she tapped the ash of the end of her cigarette and smiled.

“Of course it’s highly plausible that she was leading me on a false trail, in truth I never know what she’s truly doing.” her eyes flit to Steve for a moment, she took another drag, smile widening, “Funny, you said she had them all killed, but yet here you are - and correct me if I’m misinformed - but you all received the serum in some way or another, no?”

Natasha could see where this was headed, and almost smacked herself for not seeing it earlier, James’ face had paled. Karina chuckled.

“Perhaps it would be more truthful to say she killed those she no longer needed, hmm?” she stubbed the tail end of the cigarette out, tapping on the table with her nails as she looked at them all, blanching in the realisation. “Makes sense, you always were her favourite,”

Karina sighs.

“I’m sure you’re not naive enough to think she’d let you run around in America forever Natalya?” 

Natasha stood up.

“Thank you, Karina”

“Natalya,” Natasha stopped mid-turn to look down at Markova, still sat at the table, “Did you ever get all your memories back, in the end?” her eyes flitted to James.

Natasha shook her head, teeth gritted.

“I’ve heard Paris is beautiful, this time of year,” the woman said, her nails still tapping on the table steadily.

Natasha nodded at the woman, ushering Steve and James out the door, she didn’t look back but felt Karina track them out the door and down the street.

*

Halfway down the street, Steve said,

“What’s in Paris?” 

-and Natasha replied, grimacing, 

“A fond frolic down memory lane,”

-

Natasha had always believed that whoever decided that New York would be the-city-that-never-sleeps had obviously never spent any time in Paris. 

It must’ve been about 2 am, but one look out the window to the sparkling skyline and the bustling roads would’ve convinced you otherwise. Steve was sat on the balcony, sketchbook out and a glass of wine drained, forgotten cigarette smoking in the ashtray. Natasha thought, not for the first time, that he seemed to sink into the city, falling back into the man he was during to war. He seemed to be surprised every time she caught his eye, as if he wasn’t expecting her to exist yet at all.

James was on edge, but then that could just be because she was on edge.

She was restless, unpacking and repacking their bags multiple times to make sure everything was there and in the right place.

“Natalya,” the way he said it felt like he’d been trying to capture her attention for a while, so she shot him an apologetic smile and dropped the pistol she was holding. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know, no one would judge you for not wanting to know, least of all me,” 

He always looked worried when he was watching her as if he was afraid she’d slip away into smoke if he blinked one too many times.

“I know,” she said with a fond smile, unable to resist the urge to step into his orbit, his knees widened instantly, drawing her in and trapping her there. “This is something I need to stop running away from, though,”

He kept her gaze solidly,

“Yeah, I could name a few of those,” 

It was almost as if something clicks in the back of her head, shifts her perspective, and suddenly everything has shifted. She looks to her right, Steve is still there, haloed by the city lights, his cigarette is still burning down in the ashtray.

James took her hand, following her gaze. He squeezed her palm, drawing her a little closer.

“He can’t stand it here, finds it hard to not to sink into himself - I haven’t seen him smoke since the war,”

“I shouldn’t have made him come,” she said softly, letting her hand rest in James’ hair. He snorted.

“Please, you couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do with a million bucks,”

She laughed, louder than expected, it catches Steve’s attention, he turns and flits his eyes down from her face to Bucky’s, smile on his face. He turns back after a moment and Natasha goes to draw away from James with a sigh.

“What I mean to say is that he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t worth it,” he was looking up at her with such ferocity - like he was viciously trying to push something into her view, “- and neither would I,”

Her hands are at his jaw, and she really is certain she had no intention to kiss him, but the next thing she knows, she’s bending down. When her brain catches up to her, it comes with a murderous wave of guilt that rips through her. She pulls back, eyes wide and regretful, looking to her left to see Steve watching them with a curious look, not obviously upset, just curious. 

She steps back, pulling her hand out of James’ grasp, grabs her gun, and runs. She hears Steve call out after her, trying to stop her but she keeps running down the stairs, down the street and keeps going until she standing outside a quaint looking townhouse.

She takes a breath, looks to her right, and walks inside.

*

“This will not be pleasant, vdova,”

“I can assure you, that not knowing is worse, ” 

-

When she wakes, it takes a moment for her vision to realign, like when you take off a pair of glasses and your eyes take a moment to readjust. 

Natalya sits up, pushes through the head rush and thinks,  _ shit. _

She’d known it would be bad, or Natasha had suspected it wouldn’t be great but this - to create a whole new identity, different personality - Vasilisa had outdone herself, truly, with this. 

She stood up, feeling stiff and uncomfortable in her jeans, her fingers longed for a dress, a proper coat and scarf. 

The man sitting downstairs looked vaguely familiar, in a way that niggled in the back of her mind that she’d known him before America, his name slipped her grasp no matter how hard she tried, though, so she settled with a polite nod.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was slightly sallow toned, his hand was shaking a little when he passed her an envelope.

“Vasilisa stopped by when you were under,”

Natalya gripped the envelope tightly, flattening out her expression to neutral.

“Dangerous game you’re playing here, vdova, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a habit of bringing Red Room operatives to my door,”

“That won’t be an issue,” she said with a tight smile. She drew out her gun and shot him in the head. 

Kuznetsov, that was his name, solely responsible for the creation of the memory blocks and triggers previously littered in hers and James’ minds. Nasty piece of work, and if Vasilisa knew where he was, he’d have days left anyway. 

She opened the envelope, containing a single photograph of Natalya sitting outside a patisserie, she remembered the trip well, she was eighteen, it was the summer before the Soldier arrived. 

Yes, and there was that whole shambles to deal with too, it didn’t seem fair that she carried all the emotional baggage of a woman who didn’t really exist -

-except for that wasn’t quite true. Whether or not Natasha had been forced upon her, she’d been living in two minds for years now.

Christ, she needed a drink.

-

By the time she made it back to the hotel room, it was around the same time she’d left the night before; when the city was just waking up for the night ahead - where the buzz made Steve and James feel antsy, it made her feel alive, like her blood was singing with the noise.

The room was dark when she snuck in, shadowlike, but she could see them on the balcony, tangled up in each other. 

She felt caution jolt through her again, but this time a sense of peace seemed to settle in her bones as she made her way towards them, sticking into the dark corners as to not steal their attention.

“She’s utterly obtuse when she wants to be, I’m telling you, Stevie she won’t recognise it unless we tie her to a chair and drill it into her,” 

Natalya shivers from the corner, Steve lets out a harsh laugh.

“I just don’t understand how someone so observant can be so blind,”

She steps into the light, effectively sneaking upon them again, “It’s called denial, darling, quite effective actually,” 

Steve is on her in a second, grabbing her jaw and checking her over for any scrapes, James watches her from the balcony’s edge.

“OK?” he said, taking in her pale green dress with a far-off smile.

“Perfect,” she said, leaning into Steve’s touch, “Sorry for running out like that, I had this awful moment where I was in the mindset of a homewrecker,”

James laughed, and Steve cradled her face, dropping a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You beautiful, silly idiot,” he said fondly, “you cant wreck the home when you are it,”

She smiled, “You use that line on all the girls?”

“Only the especially pretty ones,” 

He dropped another kiss, chaste, to her forehead and let her go. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along when she stepped into James, fitting herself in between them both and letting their body heat warm the chill that had settled into her bones.

“What was this about tying me to a chair, then?”

To pairs of hands pinched her sides.

-

“Are you sure this is smart, Nat?”

Natalya snorted, she could hear his concerned look down the phone.

“I’m sure this is anything but smart, Steve, but it’ll be fine,” she leant back in the chair, letting her curls fall towards the ground, “But Vasilisa knows what she wants, she’ll be here.”

“Well, stay safe - call if you need anything,”

“Of course,” she said softly, a shadow fell across the table, and the smell of familiar perfume wafted across to her, she hangs up the phone. The woman across from the table looked no older than 45, but Natalya knew it was a lie. The woman’s smile was icy when she took her in.

“You look sweet,” 

“Vasilisa,” Natalya said with a nod, setting her phone on the table,

“Was that the boyfriend?” the smile widened, predator-like, “The Captain and the Solider,” she hummed “- greedy little thing, aren’t you,”

It wasn’t posed like a question, Natalya smiled

“What do you want?”   
  
Vasilisa sipped the coffee in front of her, and watched Natalya for a few moments, her eyes calculating.

“Can’t an aunt check in on a dearest niece,” 

Natalya raised her eyebrows and swallowed down a snort.

“I mean it, Natalya,” she swallowed, “I wanted to see you,”

They were quiet for a few moments, Natalya could feel her blood begin to simmer, there was something more, there had to be something more.

“Risky little stunt you pulled with Kuznetsov, I liked him, he was loyal,”

She didn’t take the bait.

“Why did you tell Karina you were looking for Yelena?”

The woman chuckled.

“Karina Markova needs something to fuss about, otherwise her life is pointless, I like to give her a little surprise now and then,” she looked at Natalya’s face, “Don’t look at me like that, dearest, they wouldn’t have lasted two seconds in this world, not like we have,”

“We are not the same, Vasilisa,” 

Titovich laughed.

“Of course we aren’t, I’m not naive enough to think I can lead a normal life, for starters,”

"The blood transfusions?"

Vasilisa smiled.

"Purely theoretical and utterly useless to me, your little darlings are safe Natalya, no need to fret,"

Natalya stood up.

“Well, if that’s all,”

“No, not quite,” 

The woman took a breath, tapped her manicured nails on the iron detailing of the table.

“Karpov,”

“What about him?”

The woman smiled lightly up at Natalya, eyes sparkling.

“He’s alive, darling, and not best pleased with your recent escapades,” she cleared her throat, waving her hand dismissively, “- either get rid of him or stop what you’re doing, I don’t care which,”

Natalya let out a laugh.

“Lost the taste for the kill?”

“Not quite,” she said, her tone a warning, “the poor dear believed he killed me years ago now, and I do hate to ruin a man’s legacy like that, you understand”

She really didn’t, but Natalya nodded anyway.

“You won’t be seeing me again if I can help it,” she said, giving the woman one last look over before turning and leaving the cafe.

Natalya turned back once, at the edge of the square, and the table was empty.

-

“Well?” James said as soon as she walked through the door, Steve was outside, but came back in when he heard the door.

“Karpov,” Natalya said, leaning over James to pick a strawberry of a plate of what she assumed had been pancakes at one point in time.

“What about Karpov,” James said, hand on her waist pushing her back gently until he could see her face, he looked angry - oh hell.

“Apparently he’s not exactly overjoyed at all the Hydra bases we’ve busted recently,”

“So we kill him, who crops up after he’s gone?”

His eyes were sharp, but Natalya could tell he was tired, she felt a fresh wave a guilt wash over her, Steve’s voice came from her left

“Cut off one head, and another 3 appear, always the way”

She sighed, shrugging.

“I’ll do it myself, its no matter,”

“Stop doing that,” James said harshly, it shocked her a little, even Steve looked a little surprised, 

“Stop acting like you’ve got nothin’ in this life behind you, I said I didn’t like the idea, not that I wouldn’t do it,” his eyes were stormy, but his voice had softened when he spoke again, “Your stuck with us now Talia, I’d get used to the entourage,”

She looked to Steve, who just shrugged at her with a grin, 

“Anytime, anyplace,”

“Oh, hell,” she said scrunching her face up when her eyes began to sting.

“Would now be a bad time for an ‘I love you?” 

“Don’t even try it, Barnes,”

+

“Steve?” 

He looked up from his sketchbook to smile at her, the cherry blossom was out in New York, and he looked illegally pretty backed by the soft pink.

“Ask you something?”

He smiled wider, sitting up properly.

“Anything,”

“Do you think this will ever end, that we’ll ever settle down, get a cat?” he looked at her surprised and a little confused for a moment, and then he broke out into peals of uncontrollable laughter.

“Hey!” she said indignantly, hitting him with her book when he fell back on the grass, he grabbed her arm and rolled her under him, which only made her hit him more.

“Pretty sure it’s not polite to touch a lady like that in public, Steven Grant,” James said, Steve laughed harder.

“What got under his bonnet?” James said to Natalya, and Steve managed to cough out- “Tasha wants a cat!” - between fits of laughter.

She managed to push him off her finally and settled back against the tree with a pout.

“I was merely musing on whether or not there’d be a time when we didn’t spend our days tracking down neo-Nazis,” she sniffed.

“God I hope so,” James said, smiling at her gently, “It’s getting rather boring now, don’t you think?”

Steve groaned into Natasha’s thigh.

“It was boring in ‘44 Buck,” he sighed, “Christ, Tash, I love you - but a cat?” 

“Don’t tease, I think they’re cute,” she said primly, chin in the air. 

“Steve’s right, doll, poor thing wouldn’t last two seconds,” James said, dropping a kiss to her cheek to ease his words.

“You too are lucky,” she said with a sigh, “- that you’re both so cute,”

“Was that an ‘I love you’, Buck?”

“You know what, Stevie, I think it was,”   
  


  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> my brain: OT3OT3OT3
> 
> thanks for reading!   
> kudos and comments feed the soul <3


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